


The Proposal

by FlameWolf



Series: My Strange Romance [7]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Exhibitionism, F/M, I'm sure none of you really mind, Possessive Sex, Rough Sex, Yet another excuse to write smut, sex in a public bathroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 23:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10841991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameWolf/pseuds/FlameWolf
Summary: Months after moving in and Cherise is still struggling to find some common ground.  Especially with John 5.  Just when things seem to be calming down, said guitarist reveals just why he hold such contempt for her.  Thankfully, Manson has something in mind to show her just how much she means to him.





	The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t know and have never met Marilyn Manson. This is a work of fiction, meant for fun and no profit will be made from it.
> 
> Author’s Note: Just what the title promises plus a smutty extra. ;3

Moving in had gone without a hitch, Manson having been ready for this for a very long time.  Despite how nervous she had been in the beginning, Cherise simply went along with all of it.  She was fairly confident she had made the right decision, especially given the fact that the singer was smiling more than she had ever seen.  Ever since she had given him the news, he had been on cloud nine.  Not even having to perform in concerts had brought him close to his usual angry persona.  There was also the fact he had taken to sleeping with her curled as tightly against him as he could manage.  Given the fact she had grown used to it and slept better than she had in years, it would be impossible to going back to sleeping alone.

Still, moving from Colorado to a busy subdivision in L.A. was a jarring one.  Granted, the rocker lived on the other end of a gated community but that didn’t help her feel less intimidated.  This place he lived was full of familiar faces.  Faces she had only seen on movies or TV shows.  Needless to say, all she wanted to do was hide in the house once they had gotten there.  It had only been Manson dragging her out of the huge domicile that had gotten her to socialize at all.  The first person he introduced her to being Johnny Depp, just to add a little more Hell onto her already nervous existence.

For those few minutes it felt like her heart was going to simply pop out of her chest or she would implode.  She had no idea which would come first.  So, when the handsome actor had taken her into his arms, she had nearly turned into a puddle.  This had amused her famous lover to no end, making her the butt of intense teasing from the two men.  As a result, there had been many times where she awoke to Depp hovering over her; making a heated flush wash over her as she pulled the covers over her head.

Thankfully, she had learned to relax around the surprisingly chill star; much to Manson’s slight consternation.  Once she had gotten use to him, Johnny turned out to be quite quirky as well as just plain enjoyable to be around.  He had this air that made him easily to feel at home around and she found herself making him into one of her closest friends.  Whenever she was scared or just insecure, she called him when Manson was busy.  A service he seemed all to happy to provide.  “I’ve never seen Brian so happy.  I’d do anything to help the person who made him open up like that,” the actor had explained when she had asked it was a bother.

Some days, he was one of the few things that kept her sane.  When she agreed to move in, she hadn’t taken into account the fact the band lived together.  In short, that meant she had moved into the madhouse to end all madhouses.  Poor Ginger being the unfortunate butt of all of Pogo’s shenanigans.  Unless Manson was in a mood.  Then the singer became the crazed keyboardist’s favorite chew toy, the mohawked terror often poking until he got a very violent reaction.  This reaction usually entailed things being thrown at him, him ducking and the poor drummer getting the friendly fire.

At first she found herself just a bit overwhelmed by the sheer chaos of the household.  It took a couple weeks to see the fact that they actually cared for eachother deeply.  Under all the bickering and violence, there was a strong thread of brotherhood.  A feeling of something stronger than normal family.  Something that would keep the group together against all odds.  All in all, she couldn’t say she regretted her decision.  Especially during the nights with her beloved.

While outwardly gruff, he could be incredibly sweet when he wanted to.  All too often he would nestle up against her in their shared bed, the issue of her own room never being a question.  She had even gotten back into painting, the singer joining her nine times out of ten.  Painting next to a man she had admired since she was a teenager was a heady experience to say the least.  He had even worked on some of her projects, allowing her the same privilege in return.  It was only a matter of time before she had felt entirely at home despite the daily insanity.

Now, almost a year later, she found herself sitting on the couch next to Gacy as if she had never been afraid of him in the first place.  They were even sharing a popcorn while watching Spongebob.  If that wasn’t surreal, she didn’t know what was.  Smiling slightly, she shifted her azure gaze to the insane man she had been afraid of not too long ago.  It was only after some experiences with him that she had learned the keyboardist didn’t truly mean any harm.  He liked to cause trouble but never at the expense of doing actual harm.

Also, to her extreme disbelief, he was one of those people that it was absurdly hard to hate.  No matter what he was doing or how pissed off he made people, he always had a cocksure grin on his face.  It was pretty hard to hold any grudge toward a person like that, especially when he refused to accept any amount of ill will toward him.  You could be ready to wring his neck and he’d still act like the whole thing was a joke, hugging you like you weren’t five seconds away from killing him.  Due to this strange quirk, the hyper musician had become one of her closest friends.  Though it was through no actual want of her own.

The bleach blonde had practically pushed himself at her, making himself a general nuisance until she had learned to relax around him.  None of the others had been as traumatic as him; Ginger being very kind as well as reserved, Twiggy being genuinely friendly and Tim being... well, Tim.  The Swede was the strong silent type, letting his actions do the talking rather than his words.  While he seemed unfriendly, he actually just preferred to just observe.  He had also been one of the easier ones to make friends with, having seemed to accept her since she had stepped foot on the tour bus.  John 5 had been the hardest to get to even treat her like a person.

To her utter surprise, the switch guitarist seemed to outright hate her.  More than once, she had caught him giving her a death glare when she hadn’t been paying attention.  He also had refused to so much as speak to her or even acknowledge her presence, outright ignoring her whenever Manson wasn’t around.  It was only over many months that he had warmed up enough to at least nod at her when she entered the room.  At least she had decided not to let it bother her long ago, just assuming it had something to do with Manson’s past relationships.

If that was the case, she couldn’t blame the prissy male for not trusting her.  She knew full well what her lover’s past romantic endeavors had been like.  It only made sense those closest to him would be reluctant to see him hurt all over again.  Especially someone he trusted as much as he did her.  As far as she knew, the performer had never invited of the girls from before to live with him.  Let alone how open and affectionate he was with her.  It was as if he had no walls when it came to her, a fact she appreciated greatly.

Already his singular transgression had been forgotten and forgiven, never to be brought up again.  She had come to accept how she felt about Manson, how deeply she trusted him.  She honestly couldn’t be happier, even if the paparazzi had been unable to leave them alone since they had gotten her moved in.  They seemed determined to capture every morbid detail about their lovelife.  Unfortunately, being thrown out several times by gate security did nothing to damper their enthusiasm in getting the scoop.

Still, she had a peaceful life here and had already found someone willing to handle her name as an artist.  All in all, things were looking up.  So, when John 5 took a seat next to her, the painter merely kept watching the show.  “What does Brian mean to you?” came a rasped question so out of left field that she looked at the guitarist as if he had lost it, blinking in confusion.

“C-come again?” she whispered, her heart fluttering as she tried to regain some footing.

Sighing, the honestly beautiful musician turned to face her; ignoring the look he was getting from Pogo for his audacity.  Flaxen locks hanging in chocolate colored eyes, John pursed his lips before repeating, “What does Brian mean to you?”  All she could do was gape in astonishment as it seemed the cogs in her brain had locked.

“Wh-wha...?” she began, voice laced with confusion as the irate band member cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.

“Just answer the damn question already,” hissed a clipped reply, earning a surprisingly aggressive noise from the keyboardist beside her.

“I’m just a bit confused.  I mean, I love him of course.  Even during our brief break-up, he was all I could think about.  The man’s had my heart since before we even met and has only gotten a tighter hold of it.  He’s... he’s my world,” she whispered, a very welcome hand landing on her shoulder in a sign of comfort at that exact moment.

Thankfully her response seemed to soften the rather fierce looking guitarist and he seemed to slump as his eyes closed briefly.  “You don’t have to be so afraid of me.  If I dared lay a finger on you or raised my voice, Gacy there would have my guts for garters.  I just... he trusted Dita too and...  I can’t see him that broken again.  She was everything to him and you....  You seem to mean even more and its scary,” he assured, some of what he told her making the pricklings of unease begin to bloom in her stomach.  She had known he trusted her but to hear he trusted her more than he had Dita made her feel more than just a little disconcerted.

If something happened... just thinking about it made her want to vomit as she began to shake all over.  Before she’d met Manson he had been a source of comfort and she had often wondered if he doing okay.  Above all she had wanted his happiness, having seen his misery even through just his music.  She could tell he was desperately lonely and she had been extremely happy when he had gotten married to Dita briefly.  When they had divorced she had been honestly been worried he was going to commit suicide.  There was a time where he had gotten very close, making her wish desperately she could just crawl through her computer screen to give him a hug.

Now that she was living with him and had seen how open he was with her, it was apparent she could wind up doing even worse to him.  “Stop it!  You’re scaring her half to death when she doesn’t need to be.  I highly doubt she would  _ ever _ intentionally hurt Brian.  Just look at how she’s shaking from the mere thought!” snarled a voice right before a pair of arms were wrapping around her to pull her into a lightly muscled body.  A strange scent filled her nose as she looked up to see Pogo looming over her protectively, a muscle twitching in his jaw while he glared at his fellow bandmate.  Shifting her gaze back to John 5, she was surprised to seem the normally arrogant man looking contrite.

“If she leaves because of something you said, do you really think he’d thank you for that?  That  _ any _ of us would?  She’s been the best thing to happen to him for a long while.  He actually came back to her after he had already left for another woman.  He fucking  _ came back _ !  He doesn’t come back to anyone!” continued the keyboardist that was curled around her, the guitarist across from him looking more and more guilty.

“I just...  I need to be sure she’s in it for the long haul.  I know very well what him coming back signifies,” whispered the suddenly timid musician, avoiding the gaze of the man protecting her.

“Good, then you’re well aware of the fact your head would wind up on a pike outside if Cherrie here decides to leave because of your dumbass,” Pogo bit out, venom lacing his voice while his arms tensed around her.  Cherise could only observe, her earlier terror and angst dissolving for shock.

“I wouldn’t...,” she began out of some misguided attempt to defend herself.

“I know sweetheart, not unless you thought your presence was harmful.  With Jackass over there, you could very well get just that idea.  Whatever he put in your head, your absence would be 1000x worse,” Gacy replied, his voice gentling as he addressed her but still remaining firm.  Dark eyes locked on her cerulean ones, a quiet breath escaping the normally jolly musician.

“I can already read the damage he did in your eyes and if I notice it, Bri is damn well going to,” he continued, his words prompting John 5 to make himself scarce.

Biting her lower lip, Cherise could only avert her gaze as shame filled her.  The keyboardist was right, she  _ was _ already beginning to weigh just how much damage her presence would do versus her leaving.  “I don’t really intend to leave but I can’t help but think about those things.  I have Brian’s best interest at heart after all.  Finding out he trusts me more than anyone else is rather intimidating.  If I make one mistake it could be extremely disastrous,” the twenty-nine year old murmured, smoothing her blonde bangs behind her ears.

To her astonishment, Pogo began laughing; rocking slightly as his arms loosened from around her.  “Oh darlin’!  Ya underestimate our bad boy out there!  He’s more forgiving than ya give him credit for, especially when it comes to you.  Besides, you just gave a perfect reason why nothing bad is gonna happen.  You have his best interests at heart,” cackled the synth artist as he fully released her to lounge lazily.  Blinking as she stared down at the quirky male, Cherise found it hard to argue with what he had said.

So, putting what had happened earlier in the back of her head, she went back to watching cartoons with her dubious friend.  What she didn’t know was another friend of hers had seen most of the confrontation from the doorway.  Pursing his lips, Johnny Depp turned his head to glare at the stairs the switch guitarist had run up.  Without realizing it, his body was moving him up, stopping when he had reached a door.  Knowing it was John 5’s room, the actor raised his knuckles to give the hard wood a loud knock.

After some persistence and a lot more knocking, the entry creaked open ever so slowly.  Before his ingrained manners could stop him, his body was lunging forward; forcing the door open with a bang.  With a motion of his arm, it was shut behind him; leaving him alone with a man that shared his name.  Haunted, frightened eyes looked up at him from an all too girlish face as the timid music maker cowered away from him.  “Please!  I already feel bad enough!  What I did was incredibly stupid but it had to be fucking done!  Brian was a different person when Dita left!  He was neither living or dead, barely able to force himself to go through the motions of living.  You, of all people should remember what it was like!  You were there!” the blonde spewed, backing away while tears tracked steadily down his pale cheeks.

Any anger the thespian now felt quickly faded, watching as the other man smoothed a shaking hand through his chin length hair.  A tortured expression was on his almost feminine face, his earthy eyes fixed on the floor in shame.  Sighing, Johnny closed his own eyes as he forced himself to relax and remember.  Remember the hellish days he had wiped from his mind.  Days where he had to force his best friend to get up in the morning.  Days where he wondered if Brian was simply not going to be able to handle the pain he was going through.  Days where he honestly thought the singer just wouldn’t respond to him.  “Yes... I saw some of the worst of it.  I don’t want him to go through any of that ever again either,” he conceded, feeling a tight knot form in the center of his chest.

“That’s why I...,” the other John began, jolting him back to the here and now; rage burning fresh in his chest as his eyes snapped open.

“While you had good intentions, Cherise is not like anyone he’s dated before.  She puts him first almost ninety percent of the time.  The only time she didn’t was right after he had left her for another woman, something we all know was justified.  If you had been willing to see any of her good attributes, none of this would have happened!  Now you might have scared her into thinking she’s hurting a man she loves.  How do you think a person like her is going to react to such a thought?” the actor spat, eyes spitting fire as his nostrils flared from anger.  John 5 only flinched like he had been struck, his shoulders hunching as he began to hug himself like a frightened child.

“I don’t know a lot about her character to be honest.  I was never really all that interested in her,” whispered the man in front of him, still shaking like a leaf as he rubbed his upper arms with his hands.

Those words alone came dangerously close to causing Johnny to lose his tenuous grip on his temper.  Clenching his teeth while his hands curled into painfully tight fists, the movie star forced himself to take some deep breaths in an effort not to strangle the member of the band in front of him.  “Because you were ready to hate her.  You never wanted to give her a chance.  Well, I hope to Christ Brian never finds out what happened.  I’d hate to see what he does to a man that tried to threaten Cherise,” gritted out of him before he was turning his back and leaving, his walk stilted due to his extreme rage.

As soon as he was out of the room he heard a door close downstair and felt all the rage bleed out of him for terror.  One glimpse at the woman downstairs would be more than enough to tip off the volatile rock star that something had happened.  And it had happened on a day when none of them had wanted anything to upset her.  Things were supposed to be perfect, with him being put in charge of ensuring things went smoothly.  Essentially, that meant when the ‘Antichrist Superstar’ was done with his underling that the thespian was next in line for a beat down.

Licking his lips as his heart began to triphammer, Johnny began to inch his way down the hall toward the stairs.  Carefully, oh so carefully, the petrified heart throb made his way down; his heart hammering loudly in his ears as he inched his way toward the front door.  Just bare inches from sweet freedom, he heard a familiar throat clearing behind him.  Jolting guiltily, the dark haired actor turned his head slowly to see Manson standing right behind him.  “Care to tell me why it looks like my little kitten’s been crying?” growled the rather dangerous looking rocker, Cherise peeking out of the living room behind him.

“Ask Fiver,” he tossed out, hoping that would be enough to allow him a quick escape.  Thankfully, the pissed performer was turning on his heels to head up the stairs.  Giving the stunned woman staring at him an apologetic grin, Depp got while the gettin’ was good; occasionally looking over his shoulder the entire drive home.

Looking from the door to her obviously furious lover, Cherise found herself faced with a decision.  She could allow Manson to take revenge for her, an act that would honestly be very satisfying.  Or she could stop all of this nonsense and just spend some quiet time with her boyfriend, something she’d prefer at this point.  She was tired of violence and chaos.  Just snuggling up with some Netflix was much more preferable.  So, with a regret filled sigh, the painter got to her feet and moved to grab her lover’s arm before he could get much further.

Instantly, the rocker whirled; a furious cloud over his gaunt face as he glared down at whoever stopped him.  When he saw the woman who held his heart, he wilted instantly; his frown turning into a look of apology as he walked back toward her.  “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.  I thought you were one of the guys trying to stick up for the rat upstairs,” he rumbled, closing the distance rapidly to press a kiss to her forehead and take her into his arms.

“Heh, its okay.  That’s what I figured.  I don’t want you to beat the poor guy up.  Despite the dumb things he said, he was only worried for you,” she murmured into his chest, the light shimmering off the ebony colored back of her hair as she tilted her head up to kiss under his chin.

“What did he say?” came the dangerous sounding reply from somewhere above her, drawing the artist to roll her eyes.

“Its done, its over and nothing will come of it.  Let’s just go watch some TV,” she pleaded, pulling him toward the living room and to the couch.

Pursing his lips while shifting his gaze briefly to Pogo, the ‘Pale Emperor’ set his jaw before taking a seat.  Without Cherise knowing it, the keyboardist had given him a rather grim look paired with a subtle nod.  It was more than enough to let him know it was bad.  Breathing out slowly as he wound an arm around his beloved, he forced himself not to think about it.  Today was supposed to be a special day.  He had gone through an extreme amount of effort to make sure everything had been planned out perfectly.  He wasn’t about to let one idiot spoil this for either of them.

Time passed in a blur, seeming to both last forever and not long enough.  She could have gone all day the way they were, her idol’s hand running through her hair affectionately while they watched documentaries about WWII.  Then he had moved, pulling her up with him to both her confusion and slight irritation.  “Let’s go out to dinner.  I have a place all lined up,” came an offer that froze any verbal protest, her eyes blinking rapidly while her brain tried to absorb what had just happened.

“Er, okay.  Do I need to dress fancy?” came out of her automatically, the grin she got in return doing terrible things to her insides.

“Jeans and a t-shirt should do.  I know you don’t really feel comfortable in the higher end places,” Manson murmured quietly, brushing his lips along her forehead before scooting her toward the steps and sending her up them with a pat on the butt.

Still feeling a bit off center, she tottered to the room she shared with the singer downstairs; opening the door and slipping in without a sound.  As soon as she closed it behind her, something inside her woke up and her heart began to race while her eyes widened in comprehension.  She had just been asked out on a date!  She had to at least make sure she picked out a good outfit.  Then she was walking toward the dresser that held her clothes, determination shining in sky blue orbs.

As soon as she was out of sight, Manson was whirling to Pogo with a surprisingly calm mask over his face.  “Spill,” he commanded simply, standing in place while his underling relayed what had happened.  As the story went on, however, concealing his broiling rage had become nearly impossible.  By the end, he was very close to just forgetting all his well laid plans to go upstairs and defenestrate a certain musician.

“When I come back, I’ll kill him.  I don’t care  _ what _ Cherise says,” he snarled before closing his eyes and forcing himself to take several deep breaths in order to calm down.  No matter what, he would keep his cool for his lover.  He would smile and laugh, make her feel safe as well as happy.  Make her forget what had happened earlier.

Gacy merely stood and watched his boss, smirking at the story the other man’s face was telling him.  His boss, a man they had all thought incapable of truly letting anyone in, was now like an open book.  The woman upstairs had managed to change him and it was for the better.  He didn’t just trust Cherise.  Before, he would have walked into another room before even thinking of letting his real emotions shine through.  What was happening now told him that the rocker was beginning to trust his band more as well.  The only exception to this would be John 5, the irony not lost on the mohawked madman.

Thankfully, that was the moment the dual haired female began to walk down the stairs; the outfit she had chosen effectively taking their minds off the man hiding in his room a floor above them.  Black jeans clung to her legs like a second skin and a Marilyn Manson tee adorned her torso.  She had tied the black part of her hair into a ponytail, leaving her flaxen bangs to hang slightly in her eyes.  Giving them a smile with ebony painted lips, the artist made her way to her boyfriend; giving his cheek a kiss before the pair was heading out the door.

As soon as they were gone, Pogo was placing two fingers into his mouth and letting loose a whistle that summoned all the band members to him.  All, except one.  The one they were going to be ganging up on.  While they weren’t going to beat him up, Fiver needed to know what he had done was way beyond crossing the line.  A fact the entire band seemed to agree on.  So, after some hushed planning, the group made their way upstairs to have some words with the guitarist.  John 5, who was well aware of what was coming, merely hid under his bed and waited; hoping against hope they would go just the tiniest bit easy on him.

Buildings blurred by her window as they drove down a choked street.  Compared to what she had been used to in Colorado, the traffic here was absolute Hell.  Pedestrians seemed to give absolutely no shits for the cars, going so far as to walk between halted vehicles during traffic jams.  On top of that, the roads were a huge mess.  Some parts of the road that looked like they were only supposed to be for the rail trolleys were being used by normal traffic and there were points where it was impossible to tell if you were still on the road you were supposed to be on.

The press of traffic was also like nothing she had ever experienced, seeming to wall in Manson’s black t-bird on all sides.  In order to move into any lane at all, you simply had to force your way; earning angry honks and hand gestures along the way.  It was enough to make her feel like clawing her way out of the metal coffin she was trapped in and running back home.  The only thing that kept her any modicum of calm was the radio station the man next to her had allowed her to tune to.  It was all music from her childhood and had a huge calming effect, to both their surprises.

Still, her heart was jack rabbiting in her chest and a cold sweat covered her as they drove onward.  She was so on edge that she nearly shot through the roof of the car when a large hand landed on top of hers.  Biting back a scream, Cherise turned her head to see the concerned eyes of her boyfriend.  “Hey, you okay?  You seem a bit on edge.  If it was something John said earlier...,” he began, protectiveness becoming more and more predominant in his voice.

“No no no no no no!  No!  I’m just not used to this high amount of traffic,” came out of her in rapid fire, the franticness of her response only making the singer more suspicious.

“Really...,” Manson replied, outright disbelief all over his naked face.

“Well, you saw where I lived.  I was as far out of the way as possible.  I avoided driving in downtown Denver if at all possible.  This is like that dialed up to one hundred,” she explained, jolting when someone next to them let out a loud honk.  A soft sigh sounded from beside her before he moved his hand to drape his arm across her shoulder.

“You get used to it after a while.  Its not as bad as it looks.  Besides, we’re almost there and I’m driving.  I’ve lived here for years and, on top of that,  I’m not about to let anything harm you,” rumbled in her ear, the fingers on her right shoulder tightening slightly.  Just that alone did wonders to calm her anxiety, her body slowly relaxing into the passenger’s seat.

Just like Manson had promised, they reached the restaurant a few minutes after that; the rocker opting to pull into a parking space himself rather than allow a valet to handle his car.  As soon as the vehicle was turned off he was getting out to open her door, pulling her to him for a rough kiss.  His tongue demanded entrance that she gave with a gasp, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of her head.  Teeth nipped her lower lip, his hold growing possessive before he was breaking the kiss to place small pecks on her cheeks and forehead.  “I love you Cherise.  Never forget that,” rasped a voice that she had masturbated to countless times as a teen, making a shock of instant arousal shoot through her body.

Shuddering, she gave his cheek a gentle smooch in return before giving a sincere nod.  “I know.  I love you too Bri.  Let’s go have fun and forget about the unpleasantness earlier,” she pleaded, feeling something in her flutter when the man in front of her smiled and nodded.  Then he was pulling away from her, grabbing one of her hands to lead her to the steakhouse in front of them.  Thankfully, because of it being a Friday, there were a lot of other people in the small building.  Keeping her close to the side so he wouldn’t lose her in the mob, Manson made a beeline for the counter to get their reservations squared away.

Due to the rush, none of the harried employees or people packed in chairs noticed who he was.  This meant they were able to be lead to a table without anyone trying to stop the super star for an autograph.  A fact the pair was grateful for, Manson looking much more relaxed than she had seen in months.  Pulling out a chair for her, the rocker raised a shave brow as his bare lips quirked into a smile.  Blushing slightly, Cherise took a seat; keeping her cerulean gaze fixed on the tablecloth before her.  Warm lips brushed her cheek briefly before the presence behind her was moving, a lanky frame sinking into a chair across from her.

Amused, mismatched eyes fixed on her, a waitress appearing out of nowhere to ask what they wanted to drink.  Cherise got a cola without ice while Manson ordered an unsweetened iced tea.  A bit surprised he hadn’t at least ordered a beer, the painter simply shrugged it off as him not wanting to drink while he had her along.  So she just fell into conversation, talking to the celebrity across from her as if they had been friends since childhood.  Soon they were swapping embarrassing stories, laughing wildly by the time the server came back.

“And he just crawls out of his bedroom window butt naked.  Thank Christ we lived out in the middle of nowhere,” Cherise finished, her eyes glimmering with humor while their patient waitress removed their plates.  Thankfully, the woman had the good sense to wait for a break in conversation before asking if they would like dessert.  Opening her mouth to say no, the artist was interrupted by Manson holding up a hand.  

“I’d like the lava cake,” he purred, his voice smooth as silk while his heterochromic eyes glimmered with an inner mischief.

If it weren’t for the matching sparkle in the waitress’ eyes, the young woman could pass it off as the rocker having a sweet tooth.  As it was, she felt the pricklings of unease begin to bloom within her as their gazes locked over the table.  The infamous male looked very much like the cat that got the creme, his eyes half-lidded as he fairly relaxed in his chair.  Burning with curiosity as well as apprehension, Cherise longed to just outright ask what he was planning.  Yet experience with Manson had taught her such an act would be worse than useless.

After what seemed like an unbearable eternity, the girl was back with a silver dome that only made her anxiety spike; her throat growing dry as reality seemed to shrink away from her.  Surely he wasn’t going to...  Getting married once had seemed like more than enough for him.  There was no way he was going to do what she thought he was.  Then, to her utter shock, the man across from her was getting to his feet as he whisked away the dome.  Her heart nearly stopped in her chest whes she saw what was presented to her.

On top of the small, chocolate cake there was a silver ring that held a celtic design woven into its very band.  In the center was a blood red garnet stone rimmed by tiny, sparkling bits of onyx.  All her breath whooshed out of her, overwhelmed tears filling her eyes as she wordlessly watched him pick up the ring.  Clearing his throat, the man who normally bowed to no one got down on one knee; a hush coming over the room as the people around them realized what was going on.  Forcing herself to breath in and out, Cherise kept her focus on the lyricist in front of her; a man she admired and had obsessed over at one time.  “I know we have only known eachother a short while but I feel this is the right time.  Cherise Pearson, I love you more than I have any other woman.  I knew before you moved in with me that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with me.  Now I just wanna make it official.  Kitten, can you find it in your heart to marry a devil like me?” rumbled the humble God of Grotesque, his eyes meeting hers as time seemed to stop.

Despite what she had said earlier, everything John 5 said flashed through her head.  Mixed in with everything she knew about him, she found herself a little intimidated by the situation.  She loved Manson and a large part of her just wanted to launch herself at him in a show of affection as well as acceptance.  Yet, a small part of her was afraid of what  _ could _ happen.  All manner of irrational scenarios began to play through her head, making it hard for her to express how she really felt.  What was worse, the man in front of her could clearly see what was going through her head.

Brow furrowing slightly, Marilyn closed his eyes; mouthing ‘I’m going to murder him’ before taking in a deep breath.  “Don’t let fear color this decision.  Let your trust for me do the talking.  Your trust in yourself,” pleaded his voice, sounding soft and almost scared as he kept his head tilted downward.  The freelancer could only nibble her lower lip before taking a deep breath and forcing her fears down.  After all, she  _ did _ trust him now.  She trusted him to be loyal, to take care of her, to keep her safe.  Question was, did she trust herself not to hurt  _ him _ in some way.

Taking a look deep inside herself, she found her answer; her heart filling with indescribable joy as she reached for the ring.  In her heart of hearts, she knew she would never do anything to intentionally harm this person.  In fact, she would go out of her way to make sure he was happy; within limit of course.  As she offered her finger, the bright smile she got in response was the only confirmation she needed that she had done the right thing.  “Thank you,” Manson murmured, his voice choked with emotion as he slid the cold, metal band onto the proper finger.

Then he was getting to his feet, pulling her into a hug while the crowd around them erupted in cheers.  “Meet me by the bathrooms.  I need you, my little wife,” rasped in her ear, making gooseflesh break out over her skin.  Then he was letting her go to head towards the men’s room, answering her unasked question of whether or not he really meant that.  Blushing, the flustered femme looked around the room, taking little comfort in the fact their audience had gone back to their dinners.

“This is fucking crazy,” she hissed out, getting up from their table to follow.  As she walked, her skin alternated between hot and cold; her heart whamming against her ribs.

Repeatedly telling herself just how insane this was did nothing to stop her forward momentum.  Then she caught sight of her new fiance leaning outside the women’s bathroom, every line of his body screaming with sexual intent.  Eyes shifting to her, the sight of his blown pupils took her breath away and she found herself licking her lips as she stopped inches away from him.  Pulling himself away from the wall, the much taller man gestured to the women’s room.  “After you.  Its empty, I already checked,” he growled, seeming as cool as a cucumber despite the dangerous aura radiating off him.

Giving a helpless nod, she scooted into the rather clean restroom; Manson close on her tail.  “Good girl,” snarled from behind her, the sound of a lock turning deathly loud in the tiled room.  Swallowing loudly as her tongue flicks out to lick her dry lips, Cherise turned to look at the ‘God of Fuck’.  Already imposing normally, he loomed over her with his chest heaving slightly; the expression on his face one of a starving predator seeing an overweight antelope.

In one motion, he bent to capture her lips; his teeth biting her lips aggressively as he pressed himself against her.  “Turn around and place your hands on the wall,” gritted out of him as he backed away just enough to allow her to do so.  Shaking slightly as her pulse roared in her ears, Cherise gave a small nod before turning to face the tiled wall opposite the sinks.  Taking in a shuddering breath, she placed her hands flat against the cold plates that had been glued to the wall.

Despite expecting it, the twenty-nine year old still jumped and let out a small squeak of surprise when the songwriter behind her groped her right ass cheek.  A throaty chuckle from behind her only heightened her anxiety as well as the shameful excitement building inside her.  Hot breath puffed against the back of her neck, his hands rubbing the swell of her hips as he leaned over her.  “Relax sweetheart,” rumbled a voice in her ear just before she felt his hand move to the front of her tight jeans.  In a deft motion, the button fastening the material was released.

Soft, gruff growls bubbled up from the depths of his chest, his hands lovingly sliding the ebony denim down her milky thighs.  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” sighed a reverent declaration, fingers brushing against her covered entrance briefly.  A soft gasp escapes her as she leans into the touch, pink staining her cheeks while mortification actively fought with her lust.  A voice screamed from the back of her head that she should stop all of this but another stroke soon shut that part of her up.

“So responsive, so loyal,” continued the list of her attributes, her panties soon joining her jeans as he punctuated each of his words with a kiss between her shoulderblades.  Two fingers almost lazily played with her sensitive folds, a feeling of tension filling the air despite how relaxed the performer seemed.

“And entirely mine,” snarled the voice of his stage persona, raw and visceral and causing a shudder to roll through her entire body.  Then he was biting the nape of her neck, the sound of his zipper going down causing her excitement to reach new heights.

“Hold on tight babe,” breathed in her left ear as she felt something press against her needy slit.  Then he was pushing into her, growls vibrating against her back while her mouth opened in a silent ‘o’.

A much larger hand slapped loudly onto the wall beside her own right hand, the fingers tensing while they both adjusted to the feeling of being joined.  “Fuck,” the pair sighed out in unison, Manson’s other hand coming to grip her left hip.  Panting harshly, the ‘Antichrist Superstar’ planted heated kisses along her upper back.

“Put your arms around my head,” hissed a command that she followed without thinking, her arms coming up to wrap around him.

“So obedient,” rasped an approving baritone before both his hands were moving to remove her shirt.

After some careful maneuvering, the young painter was bared to his gaze.  A low, rough noise escaped the vocalist, his left hand coming up to cup the corresponding breast while his other hand resumed its position on the wall.  “Lean forward again,” sighed a needy demand in her ear, making her skin buzz with her own want.  Letting out a soft moan, Cherise did as asked; every nerve tingling in anticipation as her eye locked on the clean grooves between the tiles.  Then he was pulling out ever so slowly, drawing a low, deep moan from the depths of her chest.

Resting his tip against her fluttering entrance, the star behind her seemed to pause; shaking ever so slightly while she tried to catch her breath.  Suddenly, he was ramming back home; causing a sharp scream of pleasure mixed pain to issue into the room.  Hissing, Manson bit the nape of her nape again; as if trying to show her who she belonged to through his actions.  Gasping, Cherise rested her sweaty forehead against the cool porcelain; moaning loudly when he began to thrust hard into her.

The tip of him hit the entry to her cervix every time he thrust forward, making squeals come out of her as the artist desperately tried to stay on her feet.  It felt like her bones had turned to water, wails of his name leaving her each time he hit a spot that felt particularly good.  Manson, for his part, had descended into an animal; his hips snapping into hers at a punishing speed.  His teeth had long ago burrowed themselves into the nape of her neck, hot, quick breaths beating into her neck as he took her viciously.

All too soon she could feel the beginning of her orgasm well up within her, tears running unchecked down her cheeks as she helplessly wailed out her pleasure.  Released the bit of her skin that he held in his mouth, the singer shuddered heavily before leaning upward to press a kiss just below the lobe of her left ear.  “Cum for me kitten.  I can feel you’re close,” rasped Manson’s signature growl in her ears, having an instant effect on the moaning female.

Blue eyes opening wide, she felt everything in her body tighten before she was exploding into a supernova of pleasure.  Her vision went white as she came harder than she ever had, dimly aware of her partner emptying himself into her before she was collapsing and her world was going black.  Thankfully for her, strong arms were there to catch her; a gentle chuckle sounding before Manson was dressing them both and carrying her out of the bathroom.  He only stopped to pay their bill, ignoring the looks of the crowd that had gathered outside the women’s bathroom during their excursion.

Placing his precious cargo in the passenger seat, he buckled her seatbelt before getting into the driver’s seat and fastening his own.  As he revved the engine to life, he found himself thinking back on the hesitant expression Cherise had when he had proposed.  Whatever John 5 had said to her had obviously had an effect and he felt his rage flare to life once more.  Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he found his gaze travelling to the woman who slept beside him.  Just thinking about the possibility of her leaving made his heart ache in his chest and he reached out with one hand to brush her cheek.  “I know you don’t want any trouble but I can’t just let this slide.  If I had lost you because of that asshole...  I’m afraid a change of band members may be in order.  I just can’t risk that happening again,” Manson whispered, determination shining in his mismatched eyes as he drove home.


End file.
